


Like a little hug, just for your wrist: WLW2020

by elevenredpandas



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26446345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elevenredpandas/pseuds/elevenredpandas
Summary: Assorted chapters for WeblenaWeek 2020.Day 1. Guardian(s) - Lena's a lot more comfortable at the Sabrewings' than she realized.Day 2. Tokens of Friendship - Lena reminisces.Day 3. Dreams - Webby has a nightmare.Day 4. AU - Lena and Webby trade places after the Shadow War.Day 5. Glow Stars - Lena yearns.Day 6. You're Good Enough - A morning spent together.
Relationships: Lena (Disney: DuckTales)/Webby Vanderquack
Comments: 25
Kudos: 77





	1. Guardians

They're all laughing as they make their way through the front door into the Sabrewing family home. Webby has just finished telling the story of how Dewey got his head stuck in one of the windows and she rappelled down the side of the mansion trying to help Huey and Louie free him, and how Della caught them and promised to hold this over Dewey's head for the rest of his life (and honestly Della? Same. This is _choice_ blackmail material that Lena has every intention of holding onto), and even Vi is making that amused hum she does when something really gets to her. 

Kicking off her shoes as she leads the Sabrewings-plus-Webby through the entry hall, Lena asks, "So Dads, what's the plan for supper, 'cause I'm feelin' piz—" she hesitates when she turns to find everyone giving her A Look, "—za?"

She replays the last few minutes through her head on repeat trying to figure out what she did wrong and how she can play it off, fix it, make everything cool again, but Ty and Indy are both doing the exact same sweet smile at her, their eyes filling with tears, and _both_ of Violet's eyebrows are raised, and Webby—

"Pink, you're doing your little 'I really wanna hug Lena _right now_ but also I'm trying really hard to respect her aversion to surprise touches so I'm waiting until I have consent but it's killing me' dance again." She spreads her wings and rolls her eyes and does her best to look put upon. "Here."

Webby flings herself at Lena, arms and legs wrapping around her torso, and to Lena's credit she only stumbles back one and a half steps from the impact before finding her balance again and helping to support Webby as she laughs, shrieking manic glee, into her sweater. And okay, maybe Lena squeezes her just a little bit. And okay, maybe that helps a lot with this whole 'what did I do how do I fix this' thing. 

She looks back to the others and opens her beak to speak and Webby interrupts her before she can begin by dropping her own legs then lifting Lena off the floor and twirling them. "Welp, guess we're doing this now," she thinks aloud. 

Webby sets Lena down with a "Sorry, sorry," and pats her, as if to smooth down any ruffled feathers. She steps back, giving Lena that smile that never fails to make her feel warm and soft, like she might at any moment splat into a puddle of shadow goo. "I'm good now."

"You sure?" It's meant to be a tease, but it surprises Lena by coming out way too genuine. Webby doesn't even take time to think.

"Okay one more." She leans back in and makes that adorable little oomphy noise as she squeezes Lena around the waist, and Lena definitely absolutely doesn't giggle at her, or rest her chin atop her hair, or keep holding her for emotional support as she turns her attention again to the Sabrewings. Violet, having used their squishy hug time to firmly reclaim her neutral expression, answers her before she can ask.

“I believe I can assuage your worries. We are all experiencing various levels of surprise and delight because you've just shown us two important steps in your recovery and development. First, when you entered you kicked off your shoes without any hesitation.” And yeah okay Lena knows she has a thing about her shoes, Webby pointed it out during like their _first_ sleepover. When you spend your entire life as the shadow puppet of an evil sorceress making your way across the world with nothing but luck and your own cleverness on your side, you kinda form an attachment to your shoes, and having them either on or within easy reach at all times, just in case you wake up in the middle of the night to discover that the abandoned house you're squatting in isn't quite as abandoned as you thought, or you're getting kicked out of another group home for 'inciting chaos and unladylike behaviours among the other girls' and yes she is absolutely still proud of that. Right, shoes, yeah. She just likes knowing where they are in case she has to make a quick escape.

“Second,” Violet thumbs towards where Ty and Indy have moved onto holding one another, “you called them 'Dads'.”

“ _Oh_.”

“Quite.” 

A pause. Ty is the first to step forward.

“Lena,” he begins, and his voice cracks. He clears his throat and tries again. “Lena, I just want you to know it's okay that you did that. It's okay for you to call us your Dads, or just think it, or not do either. Everything's okay and we're really happy. We've kind of considered you our daughter since Vi first brought you over.” He chuckles, and Indy nods enthusiastically before joining his husband, Ty resting a hand on his shoulder. Lena realizes that she's squeezing Webby tight, too tight, and her vision swims with tears. She lifts a hand from Webby's back to swipe her sleeve across her face and feels Webby nuzzle into her chest all cute and—hey no she's just wiping tears and snot into Lena's sweater, that's gross but somehow still cute, ugh.

“Come on, you guys,” Lena sniffles, “you can't just say stuff like that, I've got this whole 'teen ne'er-do-well' thing going on.” She motions at herself with her free arm. She suspects its effect is lessened somewhat by how tightly she and Webs cling to one another. Everyone smiles at her good-naturedly, and somehow Lena doesn't hate it. Indy steps forward, opening his arms.

“Family hug?”

“Yeah okay family hug or whatever.”

Indy gets to her first, then Vi sneaks between them under her arm that isn't holding Webby, then Ty is enfolding all of them in his frankly impressive wingspan. Webby works to disentangle herself, probably to give them space to be a family or something else sappy, but Lena is having none of that, pulling her in and tucking her back under her chin where she belongs. And she hopes that even though she can't say it right now, Webby understands the meaning behind the gesture: Webby is just as important, just as much her family, as these others. That without Webby's friendship and love and hope and so much more, she wouldn't even be here to enjoy this. That Lena loves her just as much.


	2. Tokens of Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena looks through a shoebox full of mementos.

Lena has a box. It's not much to look at, more duct tape than paperboard now, the label faded and peeled away. It's from the sneakers that Ty and Indy bought her during their first Lena Is Officially A Sabrewing post-adoption shopping trip some ten or twelve years ago. The shoes have long since been worn to dust by years of adventures and late-night wanderings. She should probably eventually think about replacing the box, too.

It isn't really about the shoes, or the box, but what's inside. It's junk, mostly. But it's sentimental junk that Webby encouraged her to keep safe, and she's thankful for that. Various odds and ends accumulated in the years since Webby and Violet rescued Lena from the shadow realm with the Magic of Friendship.

Sometimes, when Lena's presence on the material plane feels particularly tenuous, she digs it out of its spot under their bed between the box with the winter duvet in it and the long crate marked in pink block letters as **WEBBY'S MEDIEVAL POLEARMS (Asst.)**. Today, she's just feeling nostalgic. She pauses, shoebox in hand, and smirks at the crate. When they had first moved in together, Lena put a minor glamer on the label, hiding the 't.' from cursory glances. Webs had been _indignant_ the first time she noticed it. It still gets her sometimes, and Lena cackles every time. She settles herself onto the bed and starts picking through mementos.

She picks out a smooth stone, taken from the lakeside Team Magic had camped at one summer. Webs had tried to teach Vi the proper technique for skipping stones. Lena had explained around a beakful of marshmallows that the real secret was to just use magic. Webby had accused her of cheating, and Violet had called her a charlatan, but by the end of that first night she was showing Vi how to do it herself, so.

There's the cap of a bottle of Pep, from that time she bet Dewey he couldn't chug a case of them and he threw up on Huey, which Lena considered a two-fer. His bodily fluids were all Pep-blue for _days_ , and he couldn't ever decide whether he loved it or hated it.

Weaved together is a pair of friendship bracelets, the two Lena and Webby had made for one another right after she came back, to replace Lena's that had been lost to the sea and Webby's that was consumed in whatever Happy Friendship Love Magic Thing had bound Lena to a new physical body during Vi's first sleepover. Webby had described them as “like a little hug, just for your wrist!” but Lena had been a bit busy trying and failing to navigate her way to freedom through following Magicka's orders so she hadn't given it much thought at the time. But what a Webby thing to say, and how appropriate. Any time thereafter when she'd catch sight of it, or notice the feel of it on her wrist, she'd be reminded of Webby.

At the bottom of the box is the one item she still has from before she was freed: her old journal. She runs her fingers over the weathered cover. If she'd had her way, Webby would have burned the thing right after the Shadow War. But that wouldn't have been fair to Webs; she spent so many lonely nights reading and rereading it, first in mourning, later for motivation as she set out to try freeing Lena. It was sweet, in an embarrassing way that left all her teenage angst and insecurities laid bare to her best friend-slash-crush. But Webby, blessed, beautiful, clever, _oblivious_ Webby, never put the pieces together when reading all that sappy poetry about how wonderful Pink is. So then they danced around their feelings for one another for, like, years.

Lena is pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the apartment door opening and closing, and wow when did it become evening, she's been in here reminiscing all day. Webby'll be disappointed if she finds out Lena forgot to eat again. She packs up the box and hops up to go meet Webs in the kitchen, to give her a hug and a kiss, and ask her how her day catching up with the triplets went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit on the short side, and a day late. 
> 
> I'm not saying I wrote this one just to use the fic title somewhere.


	3. Dreams

Lena wakes to the feeling of an elbow hastily introducing itself to her solar plexus—or whatever shadow-homunculus analog to a solar plexus she has, since her body is composed of shadows and friendship magic and thinking about this stuff is weird even when she's fully awake and functional, which she is not right now. She takes stock of the situation.

Next to Lena on the floor, Webby struggles in her sleeping bag. The others are all still peacefully asleep. On the other side of Webby, Vi is still curled up in a little ball under the desk. The triplets, despite having been banished to different corners for their various shenanigans at lights out time, are doing that thing again where their various snores have synchronized and are all operating on the same time signature. Someday, Lena's gonna record a few minutes of it, lay down some spoken word over it, then quietly distribute it to everyone they know.

She's not actually going to do any of that, that's like exponentially more work for a bit than she'd ever be prepared to do. But she likes thinking about it. 

Webby throws a wild haymaker from her sleeping bag, drawing Lena's attention back to her. She runs through her mental checklist as she zips herself out. Webby's mobile, no tears, no screams, so hopefully this is just an especially vivid fight dream. Cool, Lena can work with that, those are easy. She catches one of Webby's flapping hands and gently rubs her shoulder whispering.

“Hey Pink, wakey-wakey. You can punch draculas and snap kick vengeful fairies or whatever when you're awake, no sense doing it in your sleep, too.”

Webby curls into herself with a groan. Okay, going south fast. She squeezes Webby's hand, rubbing a circle on the back with her thumb.

“Webs, hey.” Lena shakes her shoulder. “C'mon, hun, don't do me like this.”

Webby remains resolutely asleep. She whimpers, and it sounds too much like “Lena,” and that's it. Lena's heart breaks. She spent too many months watching helpless from the shadows while Webby _mourned_ her, cried herself to sleep, and woke up wailing, and sobbed into her pillows while clutching her friendship bracelet, to do it again here and now.

She growls. Nothing, not night terrors, boogeymen, bad memories, whateverthefuck, gets to ruin her girl's sleep like that anymore. She braces for the impending headache and insomnia to follow, anchors herself by her grasp on Webby's hand and shoulder, closes her eyes, and leans forward to touch her forehead to Webby's.

Dipping into dreams intentionally feels a lot like leaning over a pier facefirst into the sea. She pushes through the surface and into a new medium. She's disoriented briefly as her mind is refracted before adjusting enough to reach out, grab Webby's consciousness, and pull her up, back through the surface, and sitting up in her sleeping bag in the middle of her bedroom floor.

Webby gasps as she returns to the waking world and glances around. When her gaze meets Lena's tears fill her eyes. 

“Lena.” Webby's voice is pained and relieved enough that Lena doesn't have to work hard to guess what she'd been dreaming about. “Oh, Lena.” Webby launches herself into Lena's chest.

“Webs, you're okay. I'm okay, I'm here. We're okay babe.” Lena whispers reassurances into the top of Webby's head as the smaller duckling weeps into her pajama top. Lena leans them down after a moment. She runs one hand up and down Webby's back, the other carding through her hair, and lets time pass. Later, when the sobs have become sniffles and Webby is no longer clinging to her quite so desperately, Lena risks a conversation.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Webby shakes her head and curls tighter against her.

“Mkay. You wanna try going back to sleep?” That she'd be going back to her own sleeping bag is implied. There's a strict No Cuddling rule in effect at these sleepovers, half because the other kids find them _insufferable_ together and half because Granny's still a bit overprotective.

“Like it better right here. Wanna stay right here.” Webby's voice is rough from tears and just a little sleep-slurred and muffled by how her face is still tucked against Lena's chest.

“Oh yeah?” Lena tries to play it cool. Lena fails miserably at playing it cool. “What's so great about right here?”

“Can hear your heartbeat.”

And if that isn't just the sweetest, saddest thing Lena's ever heard in her entire, mostly-miserable-until-recently life. She can't help it, she coos. She gives Webby a firm squeeze and leans down to kiss the top of her head. 

“Oof, Webs, you're gonna give me cavities like that.”

Webby scoffs, pushing herself up to sit on Lena's hips and level her with a glare.

“Lena! We were having a moment! It was romantic and sweet!” Her reprimand is made somewhat less effective by the smile she can't quite hide. Lena just grins and shrugs. Webby sighs dramatically and flops back down on her, voice going soft again. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“I mean I could think of a few things but most of 'em would get us in trouble.” Lena knows her words had the intended effect by Webby hiding her face with her hands and quietly keening.

“I guess I should get up and back in my own sleeping bag.” Webby begins to push herself up, but Lena tightens her hold around her.

“Nah. Nope, none of that. You had a nightmare, you are entitled to a bit of rule-breaking.” Webby tries to object but Lena keeps on. “And if any of them try to give you anything about it, they'll have to answer to me.”

This seems to convince Webby. She settles back in, right over Lena's heart.

“Mmmm, I like it when you get all defensive about me. Makes me feel extra loved.”

“You are loved, Webs.” A pause. “I love you.”

It takes a few moments for Webby to answer.

“Love you too, Lena. Love you so much.”

Yep, Lena decides, the first one to try and give Webby a hard time gets jettisoned out the window, Lena won't even apologize.


	4. AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This AU asks and answers the question: "What if Webby was fast enough, close enough, during the battle in the bin to take that magic blast instead of Lena?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's kind of a snippet from a much bigger mess I made writing for today, pages of half-finished thoughts and chunks of dialogue and all of it I deeply don't want to try to edit and prepare into something visually appealing. So, consider this a scene from a longer fic that may or may not ever be finished? 
> 
> Also, sorry Dewey.

“I don't even get why we're having a funeral,” Dewey whines between his brothers, wings flapping emphatically. He's been at this all day. Louie and Huey understand he was the closest to her, and this is how he's coping right now, with denial and irritability. But he's only gotten louder all day, and now they're all dressed up and on their way through the halls to the door when they pass Lena. Huey and Louie both notice, and try to hush Dewey. “It's not like there was a body or anythi—!” He notices her too late.

Lena is... _not_ doing well. They're all pretty sure she hasn't actually left Webby's room since they got back from the bin. After she came back from whatever the heck it was she did to Magicka, she had completely shut down, and it wasn't until they got back to the mansion and she barricaded herself in Webby's room that they even heard anything from her. And that had been crying. And now, she's standing in front of them, having just lurched sideways out of the bathroom. She looks tired and filthy. Her head and torso are soaked, like she just had her head under the sink tap. Her eyes are swollen and red and shimmering with unshed tears.

“Oooooooh,” Dewey winces and cringes back, preparing an apology. She's tilting her head to the side, and her eyebrows are scrunching up. “Sorry, Lena, I—”

“Sh-sh-sh-sh.” She hushes him with a wave of her hand, still not even looking at the trio, but this is Dewey, it has the opposite effect; he is affronted.

“Hey, I'm trying to _apologize_ —”

This time he's quieted by both his brothers leaping upon him and physically holding his beak shut as Lena wheels around at them.

“ **SHUT UP** ” and the hallway darkens around them briefly. They definitely do not panic, not even a bit. But they do all collectively and silently agree to shut up. Lena is pacing, the look on her face telling them she's miles away.

“There wasn't a body. There _wasn't_ a _body_!” She's flailing her wings, manic. “Why didn't I notice that? Of _course_ there wasn't a body!” She grabs Huey, unlucky enough to be the closest to her at the moment, and shakes him by his shoulders. “There wasn't a body because there _wouldn't be_ a body! Magicka was aiming at me!” And then she's sprinting through the halls towards Webby's loft yelling the rest of her thoughts.

“Magicka wouldn't want to kill me! She wouldn't want to _destroy_ me! She'd want to keep me around just in case she wanted to use me more later! She just hit Webby because she got in the way! It was still the same spell! Webby was banished to the Shadow Realm!”

And then the door slams shut and the boys are left standing in the hall, equal parts worried and confused and hopeful, as Beakley approaches to inquire about the noise.

Lena throws a beanbag onto the trapdoor and stuffs a blanket into the window, cutting off all external light. She shuts off all the lights but one, the little desk lamp next to Webby's bed, tilting its shade and clambering onto the bed in front of the light, throwing a stark shadow against the wall.

“Webs, I'm so sorry I didn't notice. Please, please be there. If there was ever a time for a Webby Friendship Miracle it's now.” She's up next to the wall, one hand pressed flat and forehead resting against it. In her other hand, she clutches Webby's friendship bracelet. “Come on, Pink, be there, please be there. I just need a sign, gimme something.” She splays her fingers and focuses on the hum of energy from the amulet inside of her own chest. “Come on, Webs. Webby. I can't do this without you. Come on, reach out, yell, scream, do that cute little giggle, kick me in the head, anything, I just gotta know you're there, please.” 

A feeling of warmth in her palm draws her attention first to the gently-glowing friendship bracelet in her fist, then to her hand against the wall. She watches, transfixed, as the fingers of her shadow shift just to the side, lace themselves between her own, and curl around the back of her hand.


	5. Glow Stars

“Lena.” Violet's sleep-hoarse voice from the bed on the other side of the room startles Lena into dropping her phone onto her bill. Vi doesn't comment on it. Lena retrieves her phone and rubs her sore bill. “I respect that—” there's a pause as she shifts around in her bed to look at her bedside clock, “—3:46 AM is prime 'yearning hours' as you say,” and Lena doesn't have to look to know Violet has actually used her hands to make air quotes, “but this is the fourth time tonight that your phone tapping and wistful sighing have awakened me. I do not have any suggestions for your predicament, but I wanted to complain.”

“Sorry Vi.”

Violet hums her acknowledgment. Lena lays her phone on her pillow beside her head and looks up at the ceiling, then sighs again at what she sees up there. 

The next evening, Lena lounges splayed across her bed listening to music and vibing. A sharp knock on the door frame tears her from her reverie with a start and a yelp. Standing in the doorway is Violet, curly hair mussed and wearing pajamas. Lena takes an earbud out.

“Oh hey what's up V, what's up, hey. Uh.” Lena marvels internally at how very awkward that is. Just, _wow_.

“I apologize for startling you. I wanted to let you know that I'm finished with my shower, if you would like in next.”

“Aight.” Lena makes to return to her music.

“Forgive my prying, but—actually may I come in, sit with you?”

“Mi casa es tu casa, Vi. Like, literally.” Lena scoots back and leans against the headboard.

Violet rolls her eyes and hops onto the foot of Lena's bed. She is quiet for a moment. Lena lets her gather her thoughts.

“What are you listening to?” 

That is not how Lena expected this to start, whatever this is. She turns her phone's screen towards Violet, who grins and hums in recognition, and Lena realizes it was a trap. _Just because it's an indie pop/folk song about a girl falling in love with her best friend doesn't mean anything, don't read into this Vi_.

“Webby Mix Volume Two,” Violet guesses, and she's right, and Lena is both impressed and angry. “I believe she said she would be back tomorrow before noon? Are you planning on meeting with her after her arrival?”

“Eh, I thought about waiting for her at the mansion, but she's gonna be like mega jet-lagged, and I don't wanna bother her when she just wants a nap or whatever.” She's trying to be casual, indifferent, with a little dismissive handwave and everything, but Webby Talk always has her flustered and off-balance. She looks up and Violet is giving her a Look that tells her she isn't buying it.

“I believe there is no conceivable set of circumstances wherein Webbigail would not be overjoyed to see you.” Lena scoffs at that, even though it's probably true. Violet's look becomes smug. Lena doesn't like that look. “In fact, I would go so far as to claim that desynchronosis would make her _more_ pleased to see you. You give good hugs, Lena—I think it's the long wings—and I'm sure she'd love the chance to cuddle and take a na—”

Violet is interrupted by a pillow to the face toppling her onto the bed.

“Vi!” An intense blush is visible through the downy feathers on her face as she points a finger accusingly at the hummingbird. “You can't just _say_ shhh-stuff like that!”

“I can and most certainly will.” Violet blocks the next ballistic pillow Lena hurls at her. “The two of you have become insufferable. You dance around one another like the characters in a high school romantic dramedy and I have run out of patience. The frequency with which you two make eye contact, stutter, blush, then look away awkwardly is frankly infuriating.” Lena attempts to sputter a rebuttal, a counter, anything, but Violet continues. “Of course she has a crush on you, Lena. _Everyone_ knows she has a crush on you, except _you_ , apparently. I don't even know how you two met and I am absolutely certain she has had a crush on you since she first saw you.” She pauses, and her look softens. “Please. It doesn't have to be now. It doesn't have to be tomorrow. But Lena, I ask you this as your sister and friend, and as Webby's friend: stop being such an awkward mess and talk with her about your feelings for one another.”

Lena stares, slack-jawed. Violet hops off the bed and walks around it to stand by Lena. She reaches out her wing to pat Lena's shoulder, and delivers the most stilted line Lena has ever heard.

“And Lena, you're— _going_ to be okay?” And that snaps Lena out of it, because _what_. She sits up and they make eye contact, holding it for about half a second before they both start giggling.

“Vi!” Lena gets out between cackles. “What even _was_ that?” 

“I don't know! I was trying to be helpful and reassure you,” she wipes laugh-tears from her eye, still chuckling, “but I am woefully ill-equipped to be providing good sisterly advice.”

Lena flops back on her bed and sighs out the last of her mirth. 

“Whew, that was something. And uh, thanks Nerd. That did help.” She pauses. “All of it, not just the single least successful attempt at sibling reassurance to have ever been made.”

Later that night, lying in bed, Lena resolves to take a first step. She pokes her photo app and takes a shot of her ceiling, then texts Webby.

Hundreds of miles away, Webby receives a text from her absolute favorite contact. It's a dark, grainy photo of the glow stars that Webby stuck to the ceiling over Lena's bed, with the caption “thinkin of u”. Webby _shrieks_.


	6. You're Good Enough

The morning sun crests over the valley wall, setting treetops ablaze with golden light. At the center of a clearing in the forest sits a small cabin. A year ago, Webby decided the two of them needed a safe-house somewhere they could get away to if things in Duckburg ever went particularly far south, then went out and built them a cabin. Just wandered off into the woods and Waldened together a second home with her bare hands like that was the most normal thing. It's cozy, just perfect for Webby and Lena.

Lena lies on her back in the little bed they share, with Webby fully on top of her, her head pillowed by Lena's chest in one of their most frequent sleeping positions that Lena affectionately likens to a dragon asleep on her hoard. Lena's been awake for a while, long enough she's watched the room slowly brighten with predawn, and now waits for the sun to reach high enough above the horizon to peek through their window. She busies her hands with caressing Webby, one combing through her hair, the other rubbing slow circles into the exposed feathers at the small of her back, where her tail has rucked up her shirt overnight. It's half for Webby, half to keep herself grounded so her mind doesn't wander too far. 

What a weird, wonderful life Lena has lived. Not all good, no. For a while there, none of it was. But this, here, now? This is _good_. And Webby's good. No, Webby is—so much more.

She's a bundle of incredible improbabilities and paradoxes. More beautiful than words can express (and Lena would know, she's been writing poetry about her for fifteen years), with a humility to put monks to shame. The strength to throw cars and the gentleness to mend a broken heart. She's small, but she's entirely power, like a coiled spring. She was Lena's first friend, and she's loved Lena right from the start, and every day it amazes Lena.

“Don' stahp,” Webby slurs, pulling Lena's attention to the hand that has fallen still in Webby's hair. Lena grins down at her.

“Okay, hun.” She returns to stroking Webby's hair. A moment passes while Webby slowly wakes up.

“Whatcha doin' awake so early?” 

“Thinkin'. About you, mostly.” Lena feels Webby smile against her. “About how good you are, how good this is. Wondering what I ever did to deserve you.”

Webby pushes herself up to sit straddling Lena's hips, and Lena drops her hands to rest them on Webby's thighs. Webby scrutinizes her in that way she does that leaves Lena feeling loved and exposed, like all her insecurities and imperfections are laid bare and somehow Webby loves every one of them.

“Do you remember what I told you, back when we were kids in that nightmare and Magicka was trying to take back your powers using some kinda brain-wave doohickey?”

“Was that the one with Tall Boy Huey?”

“Haha! He looked so silly! I think it gave Dewey a new phobia. Yes that one.” Webby puts on her Serious Face. “'You put so much pressure on yourself to be good. But you're good enough.' I meant it then and I mean it now. Lena, you're good enough. You've always been good enough.” 

If you were to ask Lena what she thinks about the cabin, she'd say her only complaint is that the bedroom window is on the eastern side so the sunrise wakes her every morning. That'd be a lie, though. Because in that moment, the sun finally rises high enough, and light spills into their bed, and Webby _glows_. She looks like an angel, feathers shimmering, as she strokes Lena's cheek.

“You didn't have to _earn_ me. I love you. That's enough.” Webby brings her other hand up to cup Lena's cheeks, and leans forward to touch their foreheads together. “I'm yours, just like you're mine.”

They sit quietly together, enjoying the cool breeze and the warm sunlight and each other and Lena basks in her love. Then Webby leans back, smiling brightly.

“Plus you give the best hugs, Lena.” She leans forward conspiratorially. “Seriously, that is my most carefully guarded secret, that your hugs are perfect.” She takes Lena's hands in her own. “Your wings are so long, and when you rest them over my shoulders and down my back it's like I'm wearing a blanket made of _love_ and I feel so safe. And somehow I still fit right under your bill when we hug and that is my favorite place in the whole world, Lena, wrapped up in you with your bill resting on top of my head.”

An hour and a half later, Violet arrives at their front door expecting them to be ready to go. Instead, she has to let herself in. She finds them still cuddling in bed in their pajamas, whispering sweet nothings and being altogether far too saccharine for her tastes. Honestly, it's a wonder they get anything done.


End file.
